


Havoc to the Rescue

by nochick_fics



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy needs a ride home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Havoc to the Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal on 6/18/11.

With keys in hand and cigarette in mouth, Jean walked into the bar and scanned the room with sharp blue eyes. The joint was a bit of a dive, even by dive standards, but somehow it seemed like the perfect place for one whose sole objective was to do very little talking and a whole lot of drinking, the sort of place where the culmination of shitty days, weeks, and months were doused with a good supply of bad booze, where all sorts of sorrows were drowned in rotgut.  
  
It was little wonder, then, that Roy had decided to come here. Jean knew better than most that if anyone had a laundry list of regrets that needed occasional dampening with drink, it was him.  
  
He spotted him sitting at the bar, hovering over a glass of something amber and decidedly alcoholic, and he took a moment to let his gaze trail along the curve of Roy’s back, then took _another_ moment to chastise himself for doing so. This was not the time to marvel at how good Roy looked in civvies, especially if these yokels figured out the identity of the stone drunk man in their midst. While Jean had no political aspirations of his own, he was fairly certain that being the last man standing (or vaguely _coherent_ , at any rate) at last call would not serve to enhance Roy’s résumé, unless public intoxication had somehow become a desirable trait for positions of authority.  
  
Jean made his way towards him and clapped a hand on his shoulder, and when Roy turned to face him, his eyes hazed over in inebriation, Jean was momentarily doubtful that Roy would even recognize him.  
  
“Hey Havoc,” the man slurred, proving him wrong.  
  
“Hey.” For one dreadful second, Jean almost let slip the usual ‘Chief,’ which would not have been a good thing, given their surroundings. Not that doing so would have immediately tipped off anyone within earshot to the fact that this shitfaced sack was actually someone of relative importance in the nation’s military, but it was always best to play it safe. “Ready to go?”  
  
Roy polished off his drink and slid off the stool. He wavered briefly before his body apparently concluded that it was still capable of maneuvering on its own, and he fell into a slow, cautious stride beside Jean.  
  
“This makes, what, three times now that I’ve had to come pick you up in the middle of the night?” Jean asked as they stepped out the door and into the cool, brisk air. He pitched his old cigarette and lit a new one. “If you keep this up, I'm going to start charging you fare. How’d you get all the way the hell out here anyway?”  
  
“Walked.”  
  
Jean shook his head. While he had no doubt that the Flame Alchemist could take care of himself, it was almost as if the man sometimes went out of his way to tempt fate. “I could have given you a ride, you know.”  
  
“I wanted to walk,” Roy replied. “I needed to think about things.”  
  
“All due respect, Chief, but I think that’s your problem. You think about certain things way too much.” Jean opened the passenger door to his car. “There you go.”  
  
Roy all but collapsed into the car, leaving one leg hanging out and giving no indication that he was up to the task of moving it. With a sigh of resignation, Jean grabbed Roy’s leg and pushed it into the car, then closed the door. By the time he settled behind the wheel, Roy was sprawled out across his seat as much as was possible in such a cramped space, his eyes closed, his head thrown back, and his consciousness questionable at best.  
  
Figuring it would be much quicker to secure Roy’s seatbelt himself instead of waiting for the lethargic fumbling that would have surely been his companion’s drunken attempt, Jean leaned across the divide between them and reached behind Roy to grab the strap. In doing so, he found himself in dangerously close proximity to the milky smoothness of Roy’s neck, inches away, and fierce was the sudden urge to bury his face there, to bruise that delicate skin with his mouth. In his current condition, Roy might have even allowed such a thing _and more_ , and just the thought of having his way with him right there, the mere hint of possibility, was enough to make Jean half-hard.  
  
He couldn’t do it, of course. And that he was unable to as a result of his cowardice as opposed to his morals--or lack thereof--was beside the point. Either way, it wasn’t going to happen.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispered.  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“Nothing. Go to sleep.”  
  
With a harsh sigh and slightly unsteady fingers, Jean secured Roy’s seatbelt and then his own. He lowered the window and tossed the cigarette, then lit a third. After a moment of consideration, he left the window down; he needed to cool off, in more ways than one. He started the car and pulled out onto the main road, and tried his best to ignore the sound of soft snoring beside him.  
  
He had quite the long drive ahead of him.


End file.
